The End
by Tu Es Chicago
Summary: The end of the story of Jem Carstairs began on a perfectly harmless day... Oneshot.


**A/N: Sad day plus TID results in this. I'll get back to Notes soon as I'm feeling happier!**

It was a day harmless and cheerful in nature. They sat to breakfast, all of them full of relaxation, of mirth and the simple joys of healing from trauma. No accidents had occurred for an entire two days and even the nerves of Charlotte seemed to be temporarily soothed.

"It is entirely possible, Jessamine," said Will, "That your fatigue is caused by none other than..."

"Do not start, William Herondale," warned the young woman, eyes sharp and smile like that of a predator. Lovely Jessie had one of the more terrifying natures when she so decided to,

"_Demon pox."_ The young man's eyes held his rare glee, seen nearly only in instances involving his new favorite disease. And how fitting, he thought, that Jessamine should be taken with it, the little Toffer she seemed to be.

"I say, Will, I'll-!"

"Jessie, Will," interrupted one James Carstairs, face paler today but in his ever god spirits. "Please, do take any arguments outside the breakfast table." His smile was small yet gentle and his silver eyes had a faint sparkle still possessed.

The one unusual thing, truly, about this breakfast table on the glorious morning had, everything, in fact, to do with Jem Carstairs. His food was not touched as it should be, and his hand that held his utensils shook, just slightly more than usual. But in the humdrum of a cheerful morning, the makeshift family took no notice. Jem, himself, took notice of nothing other than his lovely fiancee, his parabatai's presence and of the happy air that he'd so missed.

"Tessa," Jessamine's eyes locked on Miss Grey's for only a moment as she took a dainty bite of her toast (one that made Tessa feel downright brutish for her eating habits). "Have you found yourself a dress for the wedding yet?"

"Well, er, no. Between everything else, I've not had time to-"

"Why, you simply _must_ begin your search now, if you want to come onto anything respectable for a lady of your size, you know," spoke the proper lady.

Tessa frowned slightly. Perhaps, in Jessamine's own way, she'd intended to be helpful, though she couldn't help but to feel a bit insulted by the attack on her appearance. Her height truly wasn't her own choosing, and Jessie had the look of a princess.

"I..."

Jem cleared his throat, coughed slightly before speaking. "Jessamine, please don't be rude. Tessa, my love," he paused to cough several more times into his handkerchief, "You'll be stunning in whatever you're dressed in." He smiled again, this time shakily, as if the motions of life itself were becoming a tax. Yet even so, his eyes carried life and adoration within them that shone through his weakness.

The rest of breakfast passed with relatively few other quips or rude remarks, and no more odd instances were noted until that very afternoon at three o'clock on that perfectly harmless day.

One Mr. William Herondale walked the halls of his institute at the side of the very Mr. Jem Carstairs who was his dearest companion and his most loyal. "But, really, the bloke often likes to put his arm around my waist, and quite frequently comments on my eyes. Perhaps, Jem, I am indeed so gorgeous that even one of the male persuasion cannot resist my charms!"

Three coughs and one eyeroll later, his friend replied. "I hardly believe you've won the heart of _Magnus Bane, _Will."

"Never be too sure, old chap." He smirked as the two began to ascend up the stairs.

But allow for a change in narrations. Only Master William ascended past step three. And when he heard the dreadful coughing behind him, he noticed that something was totally wrong.

Dropped to the floor was Jem's cain and he clung to the rail. Breath ragged, body quivering and legs giving out, he was only barely able to remain conscious as his brother caught him, and he heard nothing of Will's words as he was carried. Furthermore, Jem didn't know that help was called to him, either in half half-alive sleep.

"Jem, Jem, damnit, can't you hear me?" Will knelt by the bed three hours long, never moving never sleeping. He allowed no other visitors into the room, lest they see the tears. Brothers in bond, they could sense one another, and Will knew his dear, darling Jem may wake, but would not walk. The end of their adventures together was soon to come. But he wouldn't admit it! He couldn't!

Jem would never leave him, never stop being there, he was sure of it! There was some cure or the next that could be given him, some spell from a Warlock, something Will could sell his soul to, anything! Anything, please, anything. Anything he'd give, to see Jem well.

The sick boy stirred again, just the eyelids. "W-Will?" his breath was laboured and his very chest shook with the force of his staying bound to the bedraggled body in the bed.

"Jem," he breath, wiping selfishly at his face, like an embarrassed child. His great sin, whom he'd loved when he would not love lay before him, and he heard the loving voice for what have quite the chance of being his very last time. "Jem, are you... What's..."

"Breathing," he confessed, "I.. can't. And the room's growing Darker, Will. I can't see well." The hurt in his voice was rivaled only by the fear and panic that shook it, and the illness that made it so quiet and so pitiful. It was a voice to break hearts, and that it was doing to the boy at his side.

"Should I run for your medication?" _Something to help him, anything, please... By the Angel... He cannot die like this!_

""No! Please, no, I don't want that stuff in my veins," _When I die..._ remained the unspoken sentiment. Jem dared not speak it aloud, he dared not say what would only trouble Will. He had fear and sorrow enough. _Tessa will never be my bride..._ The pain this shot to his heart outrode the pain in his body. _Tessa, I tried to give myself to you... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..._

"Should I bring her?" Will nearly seemed to read his mind, and Jem would have had no surprise if he did.

"No... don't let her see me as this... Will, care for her? Give her... happiness I couldn't." A lump grew in his throat and tears wet the silvery eyes. "Tell her I love her, Will. And hold her if she cries."

"Don't speak like that!" Will grew hot in the face, standing suddenly and with force. "Damn it, Jem, you're not dying! I... You're going to... I'll do... You'll make it to that wedding, Jem."

"Will, I can't sit up. How am I to carry Tessa across a threshold?" His body was limp, resigned and melancholy. But overall he still held a mercy to him, a worry for Will.

"A warlock, Jem! A faerie, SOMETHING to help you, I'm not letting you end your life here, nor now!"

"I'm sick of foreign 'cures,' Will. Because there isn't one." His breath grew louder, his voice softer, and his next set of coughs wracked his whole body. "Just stay... with me."

James Carstairs died just an hour after his words were spoken, and he was given a most honorable sending off by the shadowhunter community.

As for the case of Mister Herondale and Miss Grey, their stories went one, carrying that of Jem with them.

END.


End file.
